Idealism
by amor-remanet
Summary: Theo seeks solitude in the Room of Requirement, only to have it infiltrated. Minor SLASH. Theo NottxHermione, Theo NottxBlaise Zabini.


**A/N: **Written for both minorpairings' Theo/Hermione challenge and my completely unofficial 7spells challenge with the prompt "sing the blues." Both challenges can be found on LJ. All characters are JKR's, I merely borrow them from time to time.

Since Draco worked out the Room of Requirement, Theo has found himself going there more often than he would have thought. Had anyone proposed the idea to him in his first year, he would have scoffed and brushed the idea off. Now, however, the place seems like exactly what he needs. It's simple – walk in front of the door three times, thinking of a simple room where the biggest accoutrements are a grand piano and candles in the window. The candles are superfluous, really; he just needs somewhere to play his music.

He thought he gave it up ages ago. Going to Hogwarts meant less time to practice, even if it was what his mother wanted for him. It all made so much sense then, but now it's like trying to actually understand what substance Pansy thinks Draco has or what any self-respecting bloke sees in the Weasley bitch. Now, the things that make the most sense are these eighty-eight keys and the mathematical musicality that his freezing cold fingers can make. A few years of only sporadic playing while at home whittled his skill down – there used to be a time when he was pretty damn good – but these trips are happening enough to make him improve considerably. Besides, he has a muse now, so his music comes from something other than an attempt to fulfill a wish he never heard articulated.

It's all her fault, really. Hermione Granger. He noticed her on their first day and thought she was annoying, prattling on about the comparative values of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, and thinking someone was listening. Their first potions lesson wasn't much better for his opinion of her… then Ancient Runes changed his mind. Showing up late earned him a seat next to her and, for once, her brilliance shone through, past the big teeth, bushy hair, and know-it-all attitude. He was guilty of the same attitude sometimes as well, so… why should it have mattered in the first place? It could be worse. They could have Draco's attitude, which is their own, coupled with a superiority complex, and nothing to back it up.

Sighing, Theo seats himself at the piano and thinks outside the moment, groping in his dank thoughts for the first memory or fantasy of her. What comes is from fourth year, the Yule Ball. She stayed out with Krum until well past midnight; he tried to distract himself in Daphne, but it was neither enough nor the same. What his fingers make is the most beautiful thing he's ever heard them create, even from back when he knew how to play… and he doesn't want them to, but the tears come anyway. He makes a noise, some choking, coughing laugh, and it's bitter like white birds in the rain.

It's probably all idealism, and he's well aware of that. Since he can't write poetry, he has to craft her eternal image in mortal notes. And she's not exactly the perfect image of a love poem heroine, but brains are superior to blonde hair, doe eyes, and an undying, virtuous love of all things cute and fuzzy. This is the power of love that older people always talk about, isn't it? Making him think of her and making his music live at all?

Curtains ruffle and the music stops as Theo perks his head up. …Curse his quiet love of those dramatic touches and lack of specificity. Leaning against the wall is Blaise; he's wearing more of his grin than his half-off uniform and there's nothing on his feet. Tedious. Just… unspeakably _tedious_. He's like History of Magic and Divination right after each other when the weather's nice, and he shows no signs of letting Theo take a break, even just a short one. That's all he wants and it's not that much to ask, is it? The reason he spends so much time here is to get away from the Common Room, the dorms, and everything entailed therein. While beautiful, the music is just a convenient way to make his treacherous feelings slightly more tangible.

Blaise leans against the piano, resting his head in his palm.

"You play beautifully," he remarks like he needs something to say. That grin has become a half-hearted smile and so much better for him; Theo can only take so much exposure to one of Blaise's grins before flirting with ideas of hexing him.  
"You're missing some clothes," Theo huffs. "_And_ leaning on the piano. Get off."  
"Come on now, Theo. It's late and Filch has gone mad this year-"  
"Can you _blame_ him?"  
"Never said I couldn't, but all the same. Our prefects – by which I mean Draco and Pansy, Merlin only knows where the others are up to – are otherwise preoccupied, so I've taken it upon myself to get _you_ to come back to the dungeons already."  
"…It's not _that_ late."  
"Try eleven-thirty."

…What? There's no way it can be that late. But Theo checks his watch and it is.

"Not that late," he repeats; he's stayed out later before.  
"Arithmancy test in the morning. Any enticement?"  
"…Should it be?"  
"Considering that you're taking a NEWT in it next year, I'd think so."  
"Well, it's not."  
"_Theo_," Blaise sighs, toeing some line between affectionate and exasperated; he pushed for affectionate when he idly pushes some of Theo's hair behind his ear.  
"_Blaise_," Theo whines sarcastically.  
"You're exhausted, Theo, and you probably haven't done Snape's Defense assignment yet."  
"He's Head of Slytherin; he'll get over it. Now kindly get lost. Whoever you're seducing this week must be getting lonely by now."

Leaving it vague is always best with Blaise; high standards or not, he's prone to opportunism in the worst ways. And he grins again, that ridiculous, superior, "I know something you don't" grin… it's disgusting, in a way. Knowing that he's mocking true love when all he knows is how to hook up… that's the worst of it.

"Oh no," he chuckles off-handedly. "They're rather oblivious to the whole thing."  
"Don't know how they_ could_ be," Theo hisses. "Hungarian Horntails have more subtlety."

Blaise doesn't answer verbally, but only runs the back of his hand down Theo's cheek.

"Believe me, they are. They're rather obsessed with someone else."

Theo's stomach hits the floor, taking his arms with it; they hit the piano keys on the way down, leaving a vicious resonance hanging between the two boys. But… Blaise will take whoever meets his standards and happens to be available, and he can't mean Theo. He's just being an idiot in his own fashion – boys are idiots, regardless of how they do it, that's why Theo's in love with _her_ (Hermione… even thinking her name induces a stupor), and why the Weasley trash never noticed her, and it's Draco's entire existence. There's no way he… Theo always assumed that he was exempt from Blaise's list, if not for them being kind of friends then because he didn't meet the standards… but Blaise said… and the hand…

Blaise gets off the piano and leans down; without warning or reason, he kisses Theo's cheek, leaving behind tingling blood vessels as he pulls back and leans closer, into Theo's ear.

"You were playing for her, weren't you?"


End file.
